


That damned scarf

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:31:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fifionline answered you:<br/>Stisaac : “What’s up with the scarf? Take it off!” with Isaac replying “Make me!” *.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	That damned scarf

"What is his purpose?"

Isaac scoffs at Stiles’ remark, even though it cut deep.

"No, seriously, aside from the persistent negativity - and the scarf!"

Isaac sees the way Stiles’ eyes follow the line from his jaw to his neck, indeed covered with a scarf. It makes him smirk.

"What’s up with the scarf anyway? It’s 65° out!"

Oh, little man, you know exactly what is up with the scarf.

Scott and Deaton leave the room to talk about Scott’s … performance issues, and Stiles stares at Isaac until the door is closed.

More than anything, he knows how well-proofed those doors are, just in case an animal is in pain, to keep the other animals for being stressed.

"What’s up with the scarf," he repeats, taking a step toward Isaac.

"Felt like accessorizing." Isaac replies, the smirk growing on his face. "What is it to you?"

"Take it off," Stiles growls, crossing his arms over his chest.

Isaac lets his eyes roam over said arms, the discretely bulging muscles in the forearms, the vein popping out next to the knot of the elbow, the way the material of Stiles’ shirt is stretched over his biceps.

And then he cocks his head to the side to look at his chest, barely concealed under his shirt - seriously, is everyone blind in this town?

The movement stretches his neck, revealing some of the skin he hid under the scarf - an healing hickey is revealed and Stiles’ eyes darken.

Isaac straightens up and stares at him, licking his lips. “Make me.”

The words are barely out of his mouth that Stiles is launching himself at him, his long fingers grabbing the lapels of his coat, and pulling him against him, his mouth against Isaac’s.

There is nothing refined about that kiss - Stiles’ tongue is overwhelming, as it always is, and his fingers let go of Isaac’s coat to cup the back of his head, tilting it to deepen the kiss.

Isaac’s hands fly to Stiles’ waist, and surprisingly, the kiss turns sweeter.

One of Stiles’ hands slides from the back of his neck to follow the soft material of the scarf, and before Isaac can comprehend what is going on, Stiles is unknotting it and pulls it off, throwing it on the floor.

Stiles pulls away, eyeing the different hickeys he placed himself on Isaac’s neck in the past days and there is a evil glint in his eyes.

Isaac lives for that glint.

Stiles dips his head, licking at one yellowing bruise, making Isaac feel like his legs are made of jelly, before nipping and sucking on it again.

"Stiles," Isaac moans, his fingers tightening on Stiles’ waist, probably marking him with his own imprint.

"What is your purpose, Isaac?" Stiles growls against his skin and Isaac only wants to lay on his back and present himself to his true Alpha.


End file.
